


Stocking Fillers

by potter_queen



Series: Gallavich One Shots [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Christmas!, Happy Ending, M/M, mentions of a sad childhood, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potter_queen/pseuds/potter_queen
Summary: Ian finds out that Mickey has never really had a Christmas... no stockings, no Santa Clause. He makes it his mission to change that.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Gallavich One Shots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634716
Comments: 9
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

“Mick!” Ian was running late. He had a hundred and one things on his mind; lists of presents to buy and shit to organise, and he only had a few days left to do it. He and Debbie were determined to throw a great Christmas this year. It was the first one that Franny would remember properly, and one Liam’s last Christmasses before he would inevitably turn into a moody teenager. They had divided up the various tasks, but Ian, having picked up extra shifts around Christmas, had not had the time to get everything done. Now, he was starting to panic. And where the fuck was Mickey?

“Mickey!” Ian shouted again, pausing in his hurried breakfast clean up to holler up the stairs. 

“Quit the fucking screeching, Gallagher. It’s too early for that shit.” Mickey finally appeared, stomping down the stairs in his little khaki shorts and lilac polo. Ian’s heart fluttered a little; as it did every damn time he saw his husband in his stupid little uniform. It was so endearing to Ian that the big, bad Mickey Milkovich washed and ironed khaki shorts to wear on the daily.

“Finally! You realise what time it is, right?”

“Yeah, I fucking do, bitch. And I’m not stressing. Chill your tits. Whatchu want anyway?”

“Sorry,” Ian huffed, finally finishing up the dishes and drying his hands on a tea towel. “I just have so much shit to do. Can you pick up some stocking fillers at the mall? I haven’t got anything yet and all the good shit will be gone soon.”

Mickey looked up from where he was tying the laces on his boots. “Stocking fillers? Like what?”

“Just general stocking filler stuff. You know,” Ian replied, focused now and knotting his uniform tie.

“Spell it out, shit for brains. Not a fuckin’ mind reader.”

“You know, little things. Same kinda shit you got as a kid.” Ian glanced up from his tie. His gaze fell immediately on Mickey, who was still fiddling with his laces, despite the fact he definitely should have finished tying them by now. His heart sank.

“Fuck. Mick, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever, Gallagher, don’t give me that pity shit.” Mickey stood up, avoiding Ian’s eye and brushing off the conversation, as he always did any time his childhood came up. “Just text me a list of stuff and I’ll get it on my lunch break, ‘kay?” Having run out of things to pretend to do in the kitchen, Mickey sighed and made his way over to Ian. His fingers made their way to Ian’s tie, just like they did every morning, pulling and tightening it until it was just right. This morning, Ian caught his hands and held them gently. He watched Mickey huff and deflate a little, resigning himself to whatever Ian was about to say.

“Santa never came to you?” Ian asked quietly, his heart breaking for the tiny version of Mickey he had never known, cold and lonely in the Milkovich house of horrors, maybe watching Christmas movies on TV, but never getting to be a part of it all.

“Oh yeah,” Mickey said sarcastically, finally looking up to meet Ian’s eyes. “Terry dressed up as Santa fuckin’ Clause and bought us fuckin’ toys. Nah, man. One time Mandy put up some lights. Some years we spiked some eggnog. Mostly it was just a good night for business.”

Ian scanned back in his mind. Between Juvie and prison and Mexico, Ian could not remember a single Christmas he had spent with Mickey.

“Is this your first Christmas, Mick?”

“Pretty much,” Mickey responded with an eye roll, pushing lightly away from Ian. “Now can we get going? We really are going to be late at this rate. 

“Okay,” Ian said, sad but willing to let it go, recognising Mickey’s attempt to close the conversation. “I’ll text you some stuff, okay? I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey huffed, allowing Ian to pull him in for a kiss. “Love you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't great hahah but I just wanted to post something for the day that's in it. Merry Christmas! I hope it's a safe and happy time for everyone. Comments are much appreciated! <3

On Christmas morning, Mickey wakes up to a warm arm sliding around his waist, and hot breath on his neck as his gangly, ginger husband wraps his long ass limbs around him, squeezing and kissing the back of his neck. 

This is highly unusual (but not unwelcome) as Mickey is reliably the first to wake in the house. Between rising with the sun in Mexico and rigid waking hours in juvie and prison, Mickey finds it very hard to sleep past six. He also relishes the early morning in the Gallagher house; it is the only time of day when everything is gloriously quiet. It’s sickeningly domestic, but Mickey has grown to love padding down to the kitchen to fix up breakfast for everyone before filling a glass of water to take upstairs to wake Ian and let him take his meds. It’s a very calming ritual, watching Ian take his pills. It sets Mickey’s mind at ease.

So it is very strange that Ian is awake. It must be fucking early, because it’s pitch black outside and Mickey hadn’t begun to wake up yet. These thoughts wander into Mickey’s mind, then wander right the fuck out again, becuase Ian is sucking on the side of his neck, and one of his big, warm hands has settled on Mickey’s stomach, his fingertips making little circles in the hair there. Mickey feels his body wake up before his mind, and he pushes his hips back just slightly.

“Mmm,” Ian hums, pulling his mouth off Mickey’s neck to kiss his lips. “You’re awake.”

“I am now. Tell me, why the fuck am I awake this early?”

“Santa came,” Ian says, matter of factly.

“What?” Mickey blinks in confusion. Is Ian referring to himself as Santa?

“Yeah.” Ian is pulling away suddenly, pushing himself up onto his elbows to lean over Mickey. In the semi-darkness, his green eyes are shining and there’s a big, dopey grin on his face. “We gotta hurry. Franny can’t wait much longer.”

As Ian says this, Mickey becomes aware of some excitedly babbling from outside the door. As in on cue, there is a tiny knock on the door, and Franny shouts into the room. “Uncle Ian! Uncle Mickey! Hurry up! Santa came!”

Mickey groans and rolls onto his back. Ian is still looming over him, grinning like a idiot. 

“We all gotta get up so Little Red can open her presents? For fuck’s sake.”

“Yep,” Ian grins and drops down to leave a sloppy kiss on Mickey’s lips. “Hurry up!”

There are not many people Mickey Milkovich would leave a warm bed with his sex god of a husband for- but God help him, Franny Gallagher is one of them. With some exaggerated groans and grumbles, Mickey hauls himself out of bed. Ian is kneeling on the floor, holding thick socks and waving them at Mickey, still smiling like a loon. Mickey rolls his eyes and turns on their bedside lamp before allowing Ian to put the socks on his feet, all the while pretending that he hasn’t turned red and his heart hasn’t sped up and being looked after. Next, Ian wrestles him into his warmest hoodie and sweatpants, insisting that it’s ‘cold as balls’ downstairs. Finally, as Franny’s pleas have reached near hysteria, Ian and Mickey step out.

Peppermint Patty glares at Mickey for making her daughter wait, and he glares at her right back. There’s no stopping Franny now, and she races downstairs, practically vibrating with excitement, and pulling Liam by the hand. 

Downstairs, Mickey has to admit that Ian and Debbie have done a great job. The tree looks great, and there are twinkly Christmas lights everywhere. There are lots of brightly wrapped gifts under the tree, some of which Mickey left there himself. There’s a whole pile of new gifts, presumably from ‘Santa’, which Mickey was roped into help wrapping. His first few stick out like a sore thumb, all lumpy and covered in sellotape, but he’d got the hang of it pretty quick, and the rest of what he wraps looks way better than Ian or Debbie’s.

“Stocking first, Fran!” Debbie says cheerfully, guiding her daughter gently away from the pile of presents. Franny gasps in delight when she sees her stocking, a red and white fluffy one, full to the brim.

Mickey has to admit, watching Franny’s excitement is pretty fucking cute. He’d bought most of the stocking fillers, chocolates and cutesy school supplies, some fucking adorable hairbows that Mickey hadn’t been able to resist, a badass tiger stuffed animal and a pair of socks with skulls on them, which Franny squeals at and puts on immediately.

Liam is next, and even though he obviously doesn’t believe like Franny anymore, it’s pretty fucking nice watching him bashfully open his stocking. He smiles shyly when he pulls a brand new scientific calculator out of the stocking. Mickey knew he got frustrated as fuck with the ancient piece of shit he had to use right now. He must know it was Mickey who bought it, because the Gallagher’s tended to overlook Liam’s actual wants, not considering a calculator a valid Christmas gift. But fuck valid, Mickey thought. He knew the kid would like it.

“Thanks… Santa,” Liam said with a grin, side-eyeing Mickey who just nodded back.

“You can open your presents now, Fran!” Debbie began to say, letting her daughter off her lap to toddle over to the pile.

“Wait!” Ian spoke up suddenly. He’d been pretty quiet since they got down, just watching the kids and smiling over at Mickey with that dopey, lovesick grin that still made Mickey squirm. “There’s one more stocking!”

From out of nowhere, Gallagher produced a big ass fluffy stocking, bulging to bursting with stuff. “There’s a note with it!” Ian went on. He was a terrible fucking actor. Mickey knew exactly what was coming, and his stupid insides were squirming and writhing- he didn’t know quite how to feel. Trust Ian to pull some sappy shit like this.

“It’s for Mickey! It says; ‘this is for Mickey, who’s been such a good boy this year that he deserves this, even though he’s an adult. Love always and forever, Santa.’ Wow, Mick, what do you say about that?”

“I say Santa’s a fuckin’ sap.” Mickey quipped back. He could feel his face burning, and knew he must be red as fuck. 

“You wanna open it?” Ian asked, looking up at Mickey with those big fuckin’ eyes, like he thought Mickey was going to say no. As if he ever could.

“Course I do,” Mickey said gruffly. His throat was a little tight. He was painfully aware that this was his first ever stocking, his first ever Christmas gift, really, his family had just never done them. As a kid, he’d never even really dared to hope for presents, yet here he was now, a grown ass man with a husband who loved him so much that he wanted to do this for Mickey- to correct some shitty childhood memories. And fuck it, Mickey was going to let him.

Mickey really doesn’t know when Ian found the time to buy these gifts. He’s grinning as he pulls each thing out; a new copy of Seagal’s Under Siege, January’s edition of Guns’n’Ammo, a pair of obnoxious rainbow socks that make Mickey laugh, a bottle of black nail polish (he’s sick of Franny’s gloopy primary colour shit), a stuffed bear with ‘I LOVE YOU’ on its tummy that Mickey scoffs at but secretly loves, and finally, a big multipack of Snicker’s bars. 

“Did Santa do okay?” Ian asks, grinning again now because he knows Mickey is so fucking in love with him right now. In response, Mickey just kisses him, deeply and uncaring of their audience.

“Yeah,” Mickey says gruffly when he pulls away. “He did good.”


End file.
